


Hopeless

by chick_with_wifi



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:56:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: The first time Root noticed signs, she dismissed it as her just being paranoid.
Then she finds comfort in the most unexpected of places.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set between Lady Killer and Mors Praematura.

The first time Root noticed signs, she dismissed it as her just being paranoid. That was part of her job description, after all, so it wasn't like she was a stranger to the ‘just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you’ mentality. And it was just little things: a lock of hair falling into her face where previously a chunk been, more strands than usual appearing on her brush, a little bit more coming out in the shower now and then. Nothing too difficult to hide.

Then the signs got bigger, almost as if the universe was trying to tell her this really wasn't something she should ignore. Root found herself picking stray hairs off her clothing on an hourly basis and when she dried her hair, four or five strands were coming out with every brushstroke. Loose hairs were ghosting across her forearms with increasing frequency. Still, she managed to keep it secret from a software omniscience which probably deserves some kind of award.

So when, for the first time in a while, she sweeps her hair up into a ponytail, the size of it - or lack thereof - forces home the fact that _something is not right_.

Stood in the bathroom of some random motel in the middle of nowhere by herself Root looks at herself in the mirror closely and begins lifting up locks of hair one by one to examine for bald patches. There doesn't appear to be any, but honestly she doesn't trust herself. Nobody else trusts her, so why should she be any different?

Sighing in frustration, Root combs her fingers through her hair. When a collection of strands comes away, she literally looks down at her hands in horror like she is Lady Macbeth or something. 

But she can't be bald because then she won't be Root. It's not like she doesn't have an entire collection of wigs gathering dust somewhere, but she is rather attached to her hair. Not physically, of course. That has already been disproven rather forcefully. But in a more solid sense. Something that kept her grounded in her identity.

Now that she is attuned to it, Root notices how her hair feels lighter and airier than usual and anxiety sweeps over her, causing her to clench her fists in an attempt to focus her attention on _something_. It feels like she missed a step on a staircase and is plummeting to her doom. Something serious is happening and she has to deal with it.

Soon her anxiety ebbs and becomes anger instead. Part of her wants to chop all her hair off and be done with it. Take a pair of scissors, hack if all off just above the shoulders and she can pretend it wasn't done in a torrent of emotion. Everybody already thinks she's lost the plot, they'll believe her without a second thought if she says she wanted to make a fashion statement.

And it's not like anybody has given one about her haircut. Or her health, if it turns out this is something serious. That'd be just like Root, to end up with some horrible terminal disease. Yet there's still a vain part of her somewhere deep down that hopes there will be a way to keep the hair she has left.

Root angrily glares at the woman with thin, brown hair in the mirror. This is an actual train wreck of a situation and she wishes with everything she has to be able to just climb out of her body and take a break from everything.

But she can't just ignore it anymore. But who can she tell? Sameen? The machine? Harold? Heck, maybe go big or go home and tell Fusco. He’s a decently well adjusted member of society, right? But then again he would probably just tell her to go to the hospital, and that was something she really didn’t need to deal with at the moment. She’d had enough of medical facilities to last her a lifetime.

So, not Lionel. Sameen used to be a doctor; she would probably have some helpful advice but Root didn't know if Shaw was speaking to her or not and didn't want to ruin whatever was happening between them by doing something untoward like contacting to her. And if anyone gave Root a sympathetic look that might just push over over the edge. Into what, she didn't know. Obviously not insanity - been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.

Who else does she know? Perhaps that lady cop who works with Fusco. Jocelyn Carter.

*

Later that day, Root waits outside the door of the precinct for an hour until she sees Carter leaving. The Machine gave up asking Root what she was doing there after the first fifteen minutes. Presumably She finally twigged that there was something Root didn't want to talk about. 

The door swings open and Carter leaves, calling goodbye over her shoulder. Root approaches her and makes eye contact to show she wishes to engage in conversation. She smiles awkwardly. “Hi.”

Root can see vague recognition on Carter’s face while she tries to fathom out where she knows her from. “...Hi.”

There is no point beating around the bush so, “I’m Root.”

Carter’s brows draw together instantly as she remembers where she regocnised her from. Obviously Harold and the big lug hadn't painted her in the best light. “You're that madwoman who kidnapped Finch.” Her hand twitches towards her gun.

Root shakes her head tiredly. “I wouldn't if I were you. I spent the better part of the last twenty years killing people for money.”

“Fine.” Carter crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks steadily at Root. “Why are you here?”

“I need your help.”

“Why?”

Root smiles sadly. “I don't know anybody else who hasn't tried to kill me, lock me up or both.”

“And what makes you think I will be any different?”

Root shrugs. “You have a bit of a reptuatation for taking in waifs, strays and tough cases. Making them into better people. And I already took a ‘no killing’ vow, so you haven't got too much work to do.”

Carter’s body becomes less tense as she decides Root has no intention of hurting her. “Come inside and we'll talk. You go in front of me.” She indicates with her head for Root to go first.

When Root steps into the precinct, the Machine speaks though her earpiece. “I’m proud of you.”


End file.
